The Sweet Finished Thing
by Green Monoceros
Summary: Just a conlusion to the story. Gemma's thoughts after the end of TSFT. Oh how deeply saddened I am. The series has ended! SPOILERS TO The Sweet Far Thing. If you didn't notice.


**This is my first fanfic. Be nice. Please? Also, I own nothing. Seriously. Oh yeah, DON'T READ THIS IS YOU HAVEN'T FINISHED _THE SWEET FAR THING_!!! There are some major spoilers that surely will make you cry and scream and be generally all torn up after reading and I shall not be responsible for your despair! Oh man, Libba, WHY?! Just..why? But um, here you go. So yeah. Enjoy! **

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The magic has left me, and I haven't been to the realms since that particularly profound incident. I can't, I don't feel quite ready. I knew the magic left instantly. My veins felt thin and I swear the blood flows more slowly. With the departure of the magic came an uneasy sense of relief. Should I feel so jovial to have relinquished it? It's no matter, I'm free. 

I think I am.

I've begun university in America. It has not entirely been the liberating experience I'd wished for so dearly. I attend Barnard in New York City. I'd hoped it to be grand and the very pink of an American lifestyle, yet somehow it is not so different from Spence and London. Barnard is chockfull of tightly corseted young women scouting for their Columbia graduates. The aristocracy of New York as prim and proper as I'd dreaded.

Oddly, I do not feel the same as I did back home. Half of it is this newfound sense of purpose. I have reasons to persist in this world. I find that I have so much to say and I shan't be quieted. The other half must be that these women do not judge. Though they do desire their parlors and governesses and hidden children, they accept that women are allowed to think, to formulate their own thoughts. It's quite marvelous. It's quite the surprise to hear productive chatter and genuine excitement over that Mrs. Anthony and her suffragettes.

When I feel too despondent, there is surely darling Fee to cheer me up. I frequently write to her of all the trials and triumphs over here. She tells me of all the gossip in Paris, of her lovers. She's met a young lady by the name of Elodie and hopes to win her affections. Apparently she gives my Felicity a run for her money in the charm area. Fee may have found someone in place of Pippa. I am quite buoyant for her. I told her about the situation with the magic and she said it was for the better. That I shouldn't be so troubled any longer.

Ann hasn't written as much, seeing as she now plays Lady Macbeth when Lily Tremble is not well. Her days are surely filled with rehearsals and autographs. She is to perform in New York very soon and I shan't bear to miss the opening night. Perhaps I will be able to sneak backstage.

Tom visits me from time to time, mostly to impress Barnard girls with his accent. I find it repulsive, but that is Tom and he is quite the model of repugnance. I try to be less hard since the death of father. Sarita wrote us a month back, letting us know he'd gone back to the laudanum. One night, he'd had more than his fill and went to sleep. He didn't wake up the next morning. It's been three weeks since the funeral and I feel a tad emptier.

I'm still trapped. There are pieces of myself I haven't learned to hone and accept. I dream less these days. I think of Kartik only in passing. The occasional man with a head full of dark curls I spot from behind. A small child's fluttering eyelashes.

I see him in his own shell only at night, as I am lying beneath sheets with the window ajar. The night air kisses my cheek, moving stray hairs from my skin. I swear I hear his voice in the wind, calling my name as gently as the Tree of All Souls. I close my eyes and trace the shape of his lips in my mind, recounting their fullness. I remember that moment in the Cave of Sighs when we were joined and often awake with my hands upon my mouth as though I'm trying to capture the kiss before it leaves me. I miss his taste and his touch.

When I felt I lost the magic, I feared I'd lose Kartik. There could have been the possibility of never entering the Realms again to reunite with the Tree. That was my last hope in seeing him physically. But I will survive without him. That's what he would've wanted.

Often, I cry when I'm disappointed in myself. I feel such a waste. He sacrificed himself so I could be the change I wish to see. So I shan't disappoint him. I will not. My dear Kartik was too lovely and beautiful to let down. I shall graduate from Barnard more knowledgeable and eager and I shall do something worthwhile. I do not know what, just yet. Maybe I'll find a Columbia man to satiate my domestic desires. But I shall have my own life. Perhaps become a suffragette or research the ills of opium. I will find a cause.

I have accepted that not everything comes at a reasonable price. There are certain things that we must learn to live without. That German fellow, Nietzsche (horrible misogynist) did say that what did not kill us only makes us stronger. I think I understand him. These losses will only help me to strengthen the relationships I have. I cannot lie; I am not whole just yet. I am in pieces, trying to put them back together. In time, I shall be somewhat complete and I shall find my cause. I will not falter. I can't, Kartik wouldn't let me.


End file.
